


To the Dance Floor

by ainagren



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 11:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainagren/pseuds/ainagren
Summary: Caroline and Dwight are at a ball, and he doesn't pay her the attention she wants. First published on tumblr.





	To the Dance Floor

The great hall is lit up with hundreds of candles, spreading a warm light glistening in the golden mirrors along the walls. The music is playing, and voices are buzzing. Dwight pulls his necktie a little, feeling warm and almost suffocated already, but he smiles kindly towards his wife, as she flounces away in her dress, a fluffy creation of furbelows and exquisite fabrics that makes her seem like she is floating on a cloud. This is not Dwight’s choice of the perfect evening, but rather a concession to his wife’s need of entertainment and parties. She is chatting and laughing with her friends, and soon she is being asked to dance. She casts a look at him, and Dwight smiles and nods, wanting her to be happy and enjoy herself. He sighs, and takes a look around the room. To his satisfaction, he finds Ross in the other end of the room, and he makes his way there, through a host of dresses, candles, wigs, lace and jackets. 

“Ross”, he calls, and his friend turns around with a smile. “How are you?”

Ross turns out to be fine, and he introduces Dwight to some other gentlemen. They are discussing politics and the situation in France, and though politics is not one of Dwight’s areas of expertise, he is engaged in the conversation soon enough. The other gentlemen are interested in Dwight’s experiences as a prisoner of war, and as a navy surgeon, and he finds himself being the centre of attention. When the discussion moves on to more structural issues, he feels confident enough to give a few comments, and finds to his delight that they listen to him, and Ross pats his shoulder in a brotherly and proud way, which makes him feel especially good about himself. 

Ross whispers to his ear:

“Careful, now, or they’ll enrol you to run for parliament.” 

They both laugh.

The evening might not turn out to be such a waste of time after all, Dwight thinks to himself. 

Suddenly Ross is clearing his throat in a meaning way and gives Dwight a nod. As he turns around, there Caroline is standing. Not at all joyful and dancing, as he thought she would be, but instead angry and sad. Dwight lifts his eyebrows in confusion.

“What is it, my dear?” he asks. “Is something the matter?”

She gives him a look that would be fatal if it were material, and Dwight is all astonishment. 

“What is it?” he says again. “I thought you were having a wonderful time! Isn’t this what you always dream of?”

“Please, Dwight”, she says with her teeth clenched, “will you come aside and let me talk to you for a minute?”

He excuses himself to the other gentlemen, lets her take his arm, and leads her into a quieter corner.

“Now, tell me”, he says, honestly concerned, “has something happened?”

“Oh, Dwight, do you understand nothing?” she exclaims. “Are you really that blind?”

He cannot answer, because obviously, he is. Caroline sighs and rolls her eyes, then blinks a couple of times to keep her tears from falling. Then she speaks in a quiet voice:

“Dwight, you think that I love to be on a ball only to dance. But I don’t want to dance with just anyone! I want to dance with the man I love! With you!”

“Oh”, he says, feeling incredibly foolish.

“You think that I want to dress up just for the fun of it, but I want to dress up for you. Don’t you see?”

“But you don’t have to do that for me”, he says, and she rolls her eyes at him again.

“I want you to notice me”, she says. “But I have been admired by all the men in this room, except for you. And you don’t even seem to care!”

Her voice breaks, and she goes silent, turning her head and looking in another direction. Dwight sighs and looks at his feet. She is right, of course. He feels his cheek burning. Had this been a ball before they were wed, he would have paid her every attention, and he knows it. Now, he is taking her for granted, and she is hurt by it. 

Quickly, he brings her hand to his lips and kisses it, a bit too long to be quite courteous. 

“My love”, he says, “please forgive me.” He looks into her eyes with his sad puppy face. “And, may I have the next dance? In fact, may I have all the dances that are left in your dance card for the rest of the evening?”

She takes her hand back and snorts.

“Dwight, there is no need to over-do it. One dance will be fine.”

But he catches a glimpse in her eyes, and it tells him he is on the right way. Encouraged, he insists.

“Oh yes, there is”, he says. “Every dance it will be.”

She laughs a little and shakes her head at him, her lovely curls swinging around her face, and her smile lifts his spirits again. He leans forward and kisses her ear, and whispers:

“You are overwhelmingly beautiful this evening, my love.”

He is rewarded with yet another wonderful smile. 

“Will you do me the honour of letting me escort you to the dance floor, my lady?” he says, and holds out his arm for her.

She takes it, and he leads her into the great ball room. Luckily, a new dance is just beginning, and he swiftly takes her up to the end of the line and bows to her.

It is true, dancing was never his favourite exercise, but then again, he has actually never danced very much, and never with such an adorable partner. During the courtesies, the twirls and the steps of the dance, they exchange loving smiles, all shadows from his earlier misconduct forgiven. When they meet in the middle, Caroline whispers:

“Why, Dr Enys, you are quite a talented dancer.”

And the next time they meet, she curls her mouth and gives him a wry smile, saying:

“Aren’t such talents wasted on a poor country doctor?”

He laughs a little, enjoying her banter just as much as he used to when they first met. Next time he gets to take her hand and turn towards her, he answers, with a wicked glance in his eyes:

“I have other talents, that are not.”

Carolines cheek shows a sudden redness, and she looks away with a smile.

“For a man of talent, nothing is impossible”, she says triumphantly on the next round, and he quickly answers:

“Without you, nothing is possible.”

She giggles, and Dwight feels an exuberant joy. Dancing was not as bad as he had always thought, but then, he realises, there is a difference in being a young man without any means in a room full of rich young women to whom he was exactly that – and being newly married to the woman he loves, and who is the most ravishing lady in the room. 

The allemande is over, and the musicians play up the courant. A young man comes up and bows at Caroline.

“Excuse me, madam” he says, “but I wonder if I may have the honour of the next dance?”

Caroline is about to take his arm, but Dwight clears his throat.

“Do pardon me, sir, but I am afraid the lady is already spoken for. Shall we, my love?” he says, and reaches his arm out for Caroline again.

She gives the young man her widest smile, excuses herself and takes Dwight’s arm again. As he leads her back up to the dance floor, she scolds him quietly.

“Dwight, there was really no need for that. It is really not appropriate for a husband to claim his own wife for every dance. What shall people say?”

Dwight bows as the music is beginning, takes her hand and winks at her with one eye.

“I guess they will say that he is the luckiest man in the room”, he says.

When the courant is over, Dwight offers his arm to Caroline again.

“Would you like to take a little pause, my love?” he says. “Personally, I wouldn’t mind a breath of fresh air out on the balcony.”

She takes his arm, and they make their way through the crowd and reach the half open glass door to the balcony. Outside, it is dark, and the sky is full of stars. Caroline walks up to the railing and takes a deep breath. Dwight is standing right behind, closing his arms around her.

“The stars are lovely tonight”, she says quietly.

Dwight buries his lips in her neck.

“You are lovely”, he whispers, and kisses her fervently, following her neckline all the way down to her collarbone.

Then he takes a harder grip and turns her around, moving her to stand with her back against the stone wall, and reaches for her mouth with his lips. She meets his kiss with partly separated lips, and he entices her to open it wider by tickling her lips with his tongue. She exhales into his mouth, and Dwight lets his hands glide over her body, upwards, slowly, all the way up her décolletage, and she sighs. Then she pulls away.

“My love”, she says, her eyes glistening of passion and jesting at the same time, “we are in a public place.”

He has returned to her neck, kissing her jaw behind her ear, and mumbles between kisses:

“Perhaps we should leave early?”

Caroline giggles and pushes him away.

“Oh, but you see, my dance card is full for the rest of the evening, so I’ll have to stay and honour it. I will not leave until the dancing is over.”

She smiles devilishly, and Dwight groans. He puts his hands to the wall, one on each side of her head, and slowly leans in towards her again, but instead of kissing her mouth, he teases her by fondling her nose with his; then, pretending to kiss her, instead he turns to the side and kisses her cheek. She chuckles, and he does the same thing again, kissing her other cheek. Then he inhales the cool night air deeply. She lifts her chin and curves her lip, looking him in the eyes, her eyes full of mischief.

“Shall we to the dance floor again, then, my love?” she says.

Dwight straightens his back and holds his arm out to her.

“To the dance floor”, he says in a voice laden with disappointment. Then he turns his head and whispers close to her ear: “Just you wait until we are alone.”


End file.
